PART ONE
Maybe my somewhat convoluted spiritual journey will make more sense if I reveal from whence I came—that is the hodge-podge of religious experiences that I found myself born into. Though I never heard of either of my grandfathers darkening the door of a church, temple or mosque, both my grandmothers were dabbling in religion from opposite ends of the spectrum.
My mother’s mother was the daughter of a strict German Seventh Day Adventist minister, who escaped her vegetarian upbringing by marrying a pragmatic and somewhat stereotypical Scotsman. Welcomed into Methodism, Grandma M. left when the minister was asked to leave the church for getting a divorce. With a group of like-minded people, she encouraged the former pastor to start his own non-denominational church, which evolved into a thriving ministry which included pastoral counseling, televangelism, and community outreach. In her later years, she retired from church going and watched him on the tube instead.
My paternal grandmother was a Spiritualist, and consequently was the object of scorn and derision from both her family and church folks in the community. Grandma V. truly lived her beliefs: she had people come to her from all over the area to contact their beloved departed, and to guide them in their spiritual journeys. During a half dozen of my formative years (ages 5 to 11), she was involved in my upbringing after my parents were divorced. Grandma V. wanted me to be churched, and my agnostic father and my Holy Day Lutheran mother were OK with it as long as I was not a Spiritualist.
So, I began my Sunday attendance at the local Church of God, an ultra-fundamentalist congregation housed in a little brick building with no crosses or even pictures of Jesus. I seem to remember a small cross on the very top of the church, but was uncertain if that wasn’t left over from the last tenant, it being too perilous a climb to correct that bit of minor idolatry. There was some subtle sniping toward the Spiritualists’ beliefs from the pulpit, but I never heard any particular religion called out, though there was an implicit understanding among the faithful that all the other Christian denominations were populated with backsliders and lukewarm believers.
They did see to it that the young’uns were brought up in the Word of God when every summer we spent several weeks in Vacation Bible School. This was not a fun and games playtime with God and the gang. We seriously studied the Bible and learned the most important passages by heart. There were, of course, suitable rewards for the kids, both edible and entertaining.
Having left the care of my grandmother, and the area of my first church, I tried out one or two more mainstream denominations. These seemed to me quite dull and as I passed through my adolescence, religion seemed to me to be irrelevant to my dysfunctional daily life.
Gradually I slipped into agnosticism and then into atheism. Actually, I was probably more of a nihilist, believing that God and religion was completely irrelevant, unless one felt the need for such a fantasy. I would only occasionally argue religion with a believer, and when that occurred, my VBS studies came in handy for dismantling the opinions of those less rooted in the scriptures. There’s nothing more dangerous that an atheist with bible knowledge. Conversely, there is nothing more dangerous to an atheist than bible knowledge, and it was this familiarity with the Word, that led to my being recaptured by the Big Boss whom I didn’t even believe in (supposedly).
My pet peeve in those days were people who acted as if they knew something about the bible, but were obviously ignorant. And my annoyance was directed at both those who were for and those against God and religion. My first revelation from on high came via someone who thought he was my ally, my alcoholic brother-in-law.
In one of his blurry ravings concerning spiritual matters, he said that the Bible was a lot of hogwash because there were no dinosaurs in it. I retorted that I had never heard a stupider statement about the scriptures in my life, proceeding to explain that the book was not a natural history text, nor did it attempt to present a scientific explanation of how the universe began. I asked him did he think the Hebrew people would have understood that, “In the beginning there were protons, neutrons and electrons from which the Creator crafted atoms, molecules, and the elemental building blocks of the material world?”
Reeling from my continued onslaught of his indefensible position, he shouted out, “You sound just like a Christian!” I countered vehemently stating that I had never been so insulted in my life. But it was too late. The seed was planted. I began to question my motives in defending a belief system that I was supposedly opposed to myself.
It was only a matter of time before I realized that I was not the unbeliever I thought I was. Then the search started. Just what did I believe???
(to be continued in PART TWO)